


Friendly Competition

by Beetle Brownleaf (monsterlover)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterlover/pseuds/Beetle%20Brownleaf
Summary: In which Cid and Nero have a bit of a friendly row over a certain lovely Garlean engineer.





	Friendly Competition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stormandozone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormandozone/gifts).

Cid sat at his desk, tinkering with the malfunctioning Thermocoil Boilmaster, cursing under his breath.

“I’ll bet you never give Nero this much trouble,” he growled.

A cup of coffee placed at his side told him he was not alone.

“No, she does not,” the selfsame engineer said, “Then again, I actually know how the damned thing works. Oh, and do figure that out quickly - twas not a fun task to make this in an ordinary kettle.”

Cid huffed, using the opportunity to take a break.

“‘She’? You’ve been hanging around Wedge too much,” he joked.

Nero smiled.

“Hah, maybe you haven’t been hanging around him enough,” he said, “Perhaps in part due to your recent proclivity to taking  _ other _ company.”

Cid’s cup paused in front of his mouth.

“Eh? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, averting his gaze away.

Nero laughed into his mug, pausing only to take a sip.

“Oh no, of course not,” he teased, “You certainly haven’t been hovering over the shoulder of a certain lovely blonde Garlean - other than me, of course - every time she happens to be anywhere near you. No, no, I must be thinking of someone else.”

Cid rolled his eyes.

“Ah, yes, and I suppose you haven’t been constantly offering help to the same lovely blonde at every opportunity?” Cid replied.

“Tch! Please. I do not offer  _ help _ ,” he said, his tone thick with dramatic offense, “Though I may occasionally offer… an outside opinion. Far be it from me to deny a trusted colleague a bit of my wisdom.”

Cid scoffed.

“A trusted colleague with pretty eyes?” he asked, incredulously.

A wide grin spread across Nero’s face.

“You said it, not I,” he replied, “Besides, if I  _ were _ to supposedly offer my opinions to said gorgeously-eyed colleague, it would only be because she clearly prefers  _ mine  _ over the opinions of  _ other _ peers of hers.”

Cid narrowed his eyes at him.

“Oh, does she now?” he said, “I suppose that’s why said colleague came to me for advice when she was working on the  _ Tiny Bronco’s _ damaged hull yesterday?”

Nero leaned against the wall, his foot resting next to the other.

“Ah, yes, of course, and then that’s why she took my advice instead,” he replied.

Cid gave an exasperated sigh, his breath making ripples in his coffee.

“Leave it to you to make everything such a competition,” he grumbled, “Especially things that are not even remotely so.”

The expression that spread across Nero’s face could only be described as the very picture of smugness. 

“Precisely what I’d expect to hear from someone falling behind in one,” he said.

The single laugh that escaped from Cid - loud, head thrown back - could almost be described as bitter, if one did not know any better.

“Hah!” he said, “You are such a  _ child, _ Nero.”

A quiet pause drifted between them, and Cid found himself exhaling audibly, interrupting it.

“She did do some rather fantastic work on this long-distance magitek communicator the other day,” he said, “Stolen device from good old Garlemald. She came in to get some help from me in the workshop, but I took one look at it and thought it a doomed project. Frail thing simply couldn’t take any audio input without frazzling. Wires weren’t worth even selling for scrap. But no, she said she just  _ knew _ she could get it to work - and she did. Replaced the frayed wires with carbontwine wrapped ones. And wouldn’t you know, it started working again. Felt a little silly for not thinking of it myself, to be honest… but she’s like that. Always thinking outside the box.”

Nero chuckled.

“Ah yes, my protege has grown exponentially,” he said, boastfully, “No doubt due to my brilliant tutelage.”

Cid raised a brow, smirking.

“I thought you didn’t offer her help?” he said, “Besides, tis clearly due to the many projects she and I have collaborated on. Some of my knowledge was bound to rub off on her.”

Nero shrugged.

“Tutelage is not  _ help, _ but rather… guidance,” he said, “Help is for those you can’t help themselves. Guidance is for, well... guiding one towards their potential.”

Cid gave him another incredulous look.

“Hmph, and I suppose that’s a good basis for a relationship,” he said.

“And I suppose constantly hovering over her shoulder is a better one?” he snapped back, “Yes, I’m sure the sound of you mouth-breathing above her is very attractive.” 

“I do  _ not _ mouth-breathe!” he retorted.

Nero clicked his tongue.

“Ahh, I jest,” he said, “But you know, it’s funny you mention that communicator - I found her working on another relic of Garlemald just two days ago: a music box. Funny little thing, played  _ The Measure of Our Reach _ , but she said it was for a little Ala Mhigan girl.”

“Ah yes,” Cid said, “The stolen anthem of the Ala Mihigans. It’s really  _ The Measure of  _ ** _His_ ** _ Reach _ \- you know, Rhalgar, their god.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” Nero said, “But anyways - she was working on it, trying to tune it up right and proper again. I just happened to be walking by, and I asked her about it. Then we, you know, started talking, and she mentioned feeling a little guilty about it. About the Empire, about appropriating the song, and how wrong it was, and then she told me she wasn’t even charging the little girl’s parents for it. It was a gift, to a poor family trying to start anew. ‘Little girls need their joys’, she said. And I just… I thought that was really very… well, nice, I guess.”

Cid smiled warmly.

“She’s a very kind soul, indeed,” he said, the late hour causing a bit of his inhibitions to wane, “Kind and… beautiful. I daresay one could get lost in her eyes.”

Nero nodded in agreement.

“Not to mention her smile. A rare sight, small and reserved… but lovely nonetheless,” he said, “Not to mention her toned physique.”

“Ohh, don’t be crude,” Cid chastised, “She is smart, clever, industrious, and a great many other things besides… toned.”

He took another sip, looking away.

“She has beautiful hair, too,” he muttered into his cup.

Nero laughed.

“Tsk! You boorish brute; all you can think of is the physical!” he jokingly chastised, “Certainly not like myself.” 

Cid glared at him, lips pursed in annoyance.

“Are you finished yet?” he growled.

“I could ask you the same question,” Nero replied, as he walked away, “I’d rather prefer to not have to go back to the old fashioned way to make my coffee, thanks very much.”

He stopped in the doorframe, turning back to Cid.

“I’d hate to cut into my morning chat with my protege."

"Ohh, get out of here already," Cid growled, waving his hand at him.

He sighed and returned to his work, as Nero's smug laughter echoed down the hallway.


End file.
